Date: October 30, 0007
The sun had crested its peak for the day, its warm rays a light caress that briefly chased away the brisk autumn air. It filtered though the thin, papery surface of the changing leaves, casting their already striking coloration aglow as they rustled gently in the breeze. Much like the nature of autumn however, they clung to their branches as weakly as life did to its creations. A gentle gust was all it took for them to snap loose from the twiggy outer limbs and tumble down in a spiraling rain of reds, oranges and yellows. How ironic it was, thought the suburb's visitor, that this time of year drew out life as quickly as it sought to snuff it.
The busier bodies of the developed part of the world were out and about, bundled in glistening spandex that mirrored the luster of silk, but completely lacked its grace of form upon the human body. Others wrapped themselves warmly in synthetic fabrics that mimicked wool. Polyester, the being had learned its name to be as he wandered the world and observed it like one would idly peruse the teeming workers in an ant colony. Man, much like ants, were an industrious bunch, though their innovations were often as puzzling as they were fascinating. In a sense they reminded him of his own kin, albeit long wiped away from the world... Perhaps that was why he donned their appearance with such ease and comfort. Of all mortals they were the most diverse in their distribution. No matter where he would walk in this minute, facade, one would think little of it. A mountain top, a desert, dense jungles to the ever lapping cerulean expanse of the oceans... To see a human out there was commonplace, dare he say even expected.
Thus, who would turn their gaze to watch a lone man walking down the sidewalk? A dark windbreaker covered his chest, dense jeans covering his legs as he meandered along like any other citizen of this well protected metropolis. His head and the dense crop of dark hair that was cut to a nigh sterilized length to where it nearly resembled the bristles of a brush, were covered in a thick, warm hat. However, he was wise to avoid wearing anything around his neck. Rumor had it that scarves were a way of identifying the truly monstrous, and he was no monster. At least, not today. It was the human day of Sunday after all, a restful day, a lazy day. Thick hiking boots crunched over the fallen, dried leaves as he came to pass a familiar house. The fence, the quaint, pleasing color that was painted upon the two story abode's walls... He may have only visited a few scant times, but the memory was etched within his ageless brain. Therein came another thought, however.
Would the residents remember him?
It had been months, perhaps close to a year or more since he had seen purple hide or horn of his past rival. Longer since he had seen any sight of his companion, the Mechanic and owner of the city's chop shop, or the robotic mercenary that looked more butler than killer. Part of him had began to wonder if the trio had been devoured by the forces that be, the changeable and mysterious laws of this plane of existence. While the Prince had dipped his pierced grill into the Sanctuary a few times, he had not seen nor heard any talk regarding the usually gregarious monarch as of late. The times he had decided to see if the alien would come wandering, perhaps drawn by fate or sheer coincidence, left the being empty handed.
It was time for a personal check-in on his old friend and even older rival. Thick boots clapped over the cement walkway and up to the front porch, seeking the door and its perplexing bell that was and was not all at once. He took pause as he came to stand before it. Yet, his palms lacked the dampness of sweat, his knees did not quake weakly, nor did his arms feel heavy.
Though most fortunate of all -or maybe unfortunate depending on preference- was the complete lack of spaghetti anywhere upon his person.
Amber eyes stared long at the panel of the door, looking past it. There were indeed life signatures inside, but where they of the persons he sought? His gaze flicked to the doorbell, the thick fabric of his glove creaking as it curled into fist, index finger jutting forth to prod the plastic button.